#freemasons
7 billion super ****
i wonder too about all this
my idle mind goes into overdrive
i think of the 7 billion humans
the ruling elite may or may not **** off
leaving just 500 million left alive
they don’t need our taxes
i was thinking 'sensibly' how they would do this?
a virus is too iffy
nukes too destructive/radioactive
how about sending unmanned space probes
to asteroids with spare engines
put the engines on the rocks and fly them to earth
all gps guided
either say the rocks are for mining for recourses
or just use them as a weapon to **** 7 billion
my idle mind lol...
May 17, 2021
May 17, 2021 at 9:28 PM UTC
Repel a *****
Rats Amid Spam Emit Gas
Reward a Looter
Revel Guns and War Tide
Edit Raw DNA, Snug Lever
Retool a Drawer
Sag Time, Maps Dim a Star
Repel a *****
Jul 6, 2020
Jul 6, 2020 at 10:54 PM UTC
closed minds,
provide for the loudest mouths,
while everyone is
quietly weird
Jun 3, 2020
Jun 3, 2020 at 7:56 PM UTC
My own growth comes from a deep realization of loss of life, whether
its
at my own hands or by another, I’m skewed emotional & left questioning my own intellect, I live until it’s time to go & continue to be proud or apologetic for
my own extreme nature.
Feb 18, 2019
Feb 18, 2019 at 5:36 PM UTC
Seemingly alive, in perpetual longing time, burden with emotions, joy stops, pain is felt. Thinking mind relentless, I’m an entire generation as singular individual. Heat rises, sounds amplified, rooms seem smaller when I step in, life dares me to forlorn not to live. It has no remorse. Morals and ethics, human. Beauty? No love found. No love lost. The burdens of living, twisted. Soundless, slow, precise and shafts of hope that is really false. Complete poetry and thinking philosophy. I am alive. Despite of everything.
Oct 2, 2018
Oct 2, 2018 at 7:59 PM UTC
Pyramids, eyes, people and mixed races, tall, lean, red eyes, interstellar. Rain does not happen here, plains of san, heat and trading with different planets. Twilight slopes. Humanity now, since making contact, everyday progressing one hundred years each day. Transfixed on wisdom. I wonder around, hearing different languages, strange signs and golden objects. Dogma, religion and any deities have no meaning but philosophy still has. The Masons are the closest there is to religion. Some of the peasants believe that Zion had arrived as the elite profits, with the behind the scenes still mold reality, the air still reeks of paranoia and the way reality presents itself, there is more still need to be found. And my travels are alone, running till my legs give-out, but I don’t cry anymore, I don’t even want to die anymore. On the outskirts of civilization, I mediate, preparing my entire being to bust out and Illuminate those willing to let me in. Complex, metaphor and metaphysical, I’ve awakened myself and reached to a point where I need to share myself. Not to save them, but to increase the quality of life as time spent together. I blossomed in a self-induced void, grew sick and tired of it and fought my way out. I’m stepping out as I stepped close to the neo-capital of Egypt. Unity now, since the war had settled and dust feel, like dew on a winter morning.I dressed the same so I wouldn’t stand out and walked silent, so they won’t be noticed with my varying accent. Humanities professed beliefs is always different from their daily actions performed in each moment they live, it’s why so many complan about it, while forgetting to change themselves first. I stood to the side, it’s been marked for me to wait, no longer on death row. Vibrating anticipation, wondering where my contact is? I laugh now, seeing all those lizards walking around now and accepted, considering the amount of years the theory about them was being laughed at. The jokers never are remembered. I assume they’ll take at least an hour. I veil my face when I see the police enter the same alleway as I am waiting in. they walk straight to me, clinch their hands and point right at me, telling me what's my business waiting here for, I gesture that I’m mute. Didn’t buy. Throwing me to the way and checking my pockets. I carry nothing besides common crystals. I feared what they’re going to do next. They rip my clothes, exposing my tattoos. They laugh. And any crowd that had formed had dispersed, silence hits then they draw their guns. Crazed fluorescent lights, cholera flowers bloomed from the sand we stood on. I spoke their language, reciting the words I had for the connection I’m waiting on. They didn't reply, just asked me to follow them. Mortal now, immortal later. Stretching my soul. The only way to spoil reality is to be immortal. We arrive at some obscure spot, where only Egyptian Gods dwelled, everything is cleaned and well groomed. No one started at me, by now I felt safe enough to let down my veil. Coming through like the wind. They sit me down, across from the throne. I can’t tell them yes, if they don’t ask. All the servants leave and police leave. A string of violin music replaces every sound here on earth. Finally the Pharaoh steps out, alone, in a violent way, puffs out his chest and instantly makes eye contact with me. I do what I need to do. I undress, exposing my **** body and my tattoos. Sitting down about one hundred feet between us. The Pharaoh sinks into a rest and relaxes his manner. I step forward……………………………….enter via behind the curtains.
Sep 23, 2018
Sep 23, 2018 at 9:46 PM UTC
No concern for the frowning faces, even though some expressed sadness with their teardrops, frantic moods in rushing vision based thoughts, encouraging me to leave. And it’s alright to rip their hearts apart. To who I praise is the bearer of light that can illuminate any individual. With no delusion I devote myself by choice too, because to the contrary I’ll be enslaved to morals that are predetermined with no freedom to move around in. lurking in my dreams, still when I’m waking, I’m alive in forever. It’s calming in the abyss, providing space to meditate, turning hour clock pouring down the sand grains as a representation for how long Lucifer had been fighting for the hearts of humanity. The only deity one can meet before my timely earthly death. Hope you don’t get mad at me, I told him you have dreams to be fulfilled, he says he’s looking for foot soldier, knows they can but won’t say ‘no’, told him how much you like it from behind.
(checkout some of my current publications on Amazon. Just search 'Darcy Prince'
Aug 10, 2018
Aug 10, 2018 at 8:38 PM UTC
Moods erupt internally like if embers
turned to lightning, sparkling fireflies
wanting to turn permanent marble burning
fires that fuel passion. Lungs breathing
out poetry as it’s supposed to live when
reciting. Ripping the wind open, both
echos in whispers and loudness like
thunder booms. In deepening weight, leaving
homage for future generations in humanity.
Taking scents of strawberries and in drenched
of mysticism. Velvet stain lodging in minds
of the capable thinkers and spat out new
philosophy in response to that poetry from
a unknown pair of lungs. Let everyone
revolt against current standards and permit
a new way of living. As myth turned to reality.
Aug 1, 2018
Aug 1, 2018 at 8:08 PM UTC
Just remember, the most common face can hide the most sinful acts of humanity. And generally no worse the rest of us. For any evil to be accepted, one must spend time demoralizing it in the public sphere. Let it become normal. Remember, ignorance is bliss and Lavey first Satanic sin is in regards to stupidity. For most, morals and ethics are for the others in suits and one’s in isolated libraries. For it at times, monotonous, boring, lowkey, faceless and holding no emotion. In a fog, you can buy a gift for a boy, jumping joy and wagging tail, to which lives in amazement, as smiles from friends, surprised to see crime in the streets as no one places value on education. Do not judge the one who preaches evil, but judge on the size of the mob and every individual there. Anyone in modern age can be anything, including a higher power and veiled pagan attributes. Evil is cannot be cured with evil, as it eats on the same table as you. As a Satanist, I am my own hero and greatest enemy. If I contribute to reality, that is my only connection to a larger society. For both goodness and evil is relative. People work, people live, people love and people cry. Nothing in this world people hold more dearer to their hearts than the things they had worked for. As for that, it is where evil will value. To be completely successful in this life, requires a lot of ego and more ignorance, when it’s too late, your soul had been lost.
https://www.amazon.com.au/Inherent-Sin-Darcy-Prince-ebook/dp/B07FR5FW42/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1532992472&sr=8-3&keywords=darcy+prince
Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 7:53 PM UTC
Finding love is to find unfamiliar beauty, noble and true,
pure in the eyesight, throughout duration before death,
a beauty that demands indulgence and conquers one’s
personal soul, their total being, consumed in every
pocket of essence. Stronger than the Devil. Oh lover,
I’m being torn apart beyond violent sobs in the corner
alone. In genius ways, it's like I’m being applied to evil
for when I’m cursed to be not around you. I vowed to
never write poetry again, if you accepted my hand.
Until then, I’m sure you’ll enjoy master of this world.
As the Devil runs riot and commits himself to his
own death, no longer able to rule earth.
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 2:21 AM UTC
Her, a silent twilight, alura of lights, glitter outside
from the in. A sublime way, letting go of her own
queenness, surpassing poetry and any narrative
of symphony. Thought ballet tried to replicate.
Belonging only to herself, for herself and none other,
than the chess game of mind, body and soul.
Musical actions, outgrowing sentimentality. Modern art,
portrait paintings, clanker's orchestra. Mystical
in fluid literature, writing such as these, potent poetic
prose. To where she won’t notice, nor even care.
Mother to art. Sister to romance. Regal without effort.
Harmony in thy soul. Because her breathe is harmony
in this world. Where this earth or matrix, perhaps
isn’t as sinful as I thought. (I repose from spells,
there is a belief in love and romance that sparkles
in this world as poetry.)
Jun 18, 2018
Jun 18, 2018 at 9:19 PM UTC
Cliche beginnings, eye catching glances, images layed over heart, ****** lust. Touching civilization. Constant linage over time. Felt and now posed in forever. Flamed passions, wild hearts, glaring from the eyes.
Heaven smiles. Earth blushes.
No longer to argue with society, protesting against, never. Inclined to give in. Forgetting about the normality of life, where others suffer. Love left to experience as something happens to others is sill and thought dripping poetry, is now one’s own hands. A souls liberty. Dream fulfilling. Intimate moments. Mimicking poems. Glowing engagement between two.
If it’s told in theatre, proposals for immortality.
Shocked and accidental.
No sense of possibly returning.
For they are not who I had expected. Neo. How saving hee, never. Oh how love deems and falls, melting over one, like gold over marble. For I never asked, dreamt of, or even yearned for. Though they are there and I cannot turn away.
Normal in love.
Different outside the normality of where we both come from.
Whimpering without, like a child
and I roar when she’s around.
Feeling utterly untouchable, brave to be thyself as we experience contentment.
Poetry follows but will never emulate.
(knowledge variable)
Jun 18, 2018
Jun 18, 2018 at 9:08 PM UTC
To be in pursuit in my own destiny, to break away
from my dreams. Proclaiming my inner world as
my state. Land walked over. Vagabond. Lusting
for experience. Haunting now. Haunting never.
I’m breaking the narrative of society and made
something of myself. Poetry that I write, is a
different story. Truth be told, its in order to grab
attention from thy lover.
(knowledge variable)
Jun 13, 2018
Jun 13, 2018 at 8:08 PM UTC
An inward secret figure, lurking in the light, formed by sunbeam
rays, glittering the world with sparkles of gold. Inflating the very
importance on living. Meaning in poems, without words speaking
in melodies speech. Emerging in utter beauty, sourced from one’s
character. Spilling into one’s flesh. Distracted in one’s ambitions.
Building value, that’s all too human. Despite truth attained inside.
The outside flows of filling actions, producing praise in other.s
Personality is a veiling persona, playing the part, a life is one
continuous scene. Devotion, admiration, passions, all tingeringly
human. Though it takes one person, one glance, one conversation,
one interaction by another, in it’s accidental ways, normally one
stops to stutter and flushes inside, boiling redness, learning how
mundane they had lived, pointless it all was, finding another
purpose, unexpectedly from another. No middle way, on the
spectrum of extreme, wanting to **** the other, for being something
others aren’t. Creating love in a world made only for lovers.
Meeting fear for the first time. Understanding poetry without having
reading them. Colours alive. So we rose above, unable to commit
to a life that society had laid out. Never again are we alone in
our own lives, destined to be normal, living on the brink of void.
We create poetry in our own hands, crossing over to the muses
heaven.
(knowledge variable)
Jun 6, 2018
Jun 6, 2018 at 7:18 PM UTC
Oh poet, always in that stream of mood, a stranger,
in a place that’s overwhelming and never asked a
thought on it’s own design. Given life freely, born
like everyone else. Yet, still in exile over this globe.
A dark yawning. A mundane normality. Without a
lust for anything, going about it’s daily business,
without a name. Do not wonder too close to them.
Stay with poetry. For someone needs to mix
emotions, sensations and thoughts together and
take the time to articulate. For the rest, are too
busy fitting in.
(knowledge variable)
May 31, 2018
May 31, 2018 at 6:49 PM UTC
Vanishing yearnings, losing sense of time, provoke a myth,
impending a little apocryphal. The sun rises and it goes. A
breathe that creates shadows, covering mountains, something
that isn’t learnt. Flawed genius. Goats cry. Mystics chant
songs that praise. A faint taunt of rage, before turning to sobs
and whimpers. Gloom in darkness. Sin to be paid. Nothing
to do, but change in shift structures.
Believe in eyesight, believe now, if not, not to worry. Garments
drop from the air, blood replacing rain, this is not to express a
furious despair. When evening is not, muddy and dark waters,
where children swim, a distraction. Adapt not. It will not reward.
Murmur of voices carry in the wind, as the earth prepares to
stop spinning, it’s prays and nothing else. Horror turns to most
resistant to a religious observer.
A collection of suffering and nothing else.
On the other side, debates, battles, things we cannot invent
in our minds eye, argue over us. Their decision is based on
our actions. This is democracy. A flavour of goodness. Brewed
from unholiness. Tragedies remind us, constantly on death.
Yet. We all die one day. Despite our thoughts, intents and
actions leading towards it. We can’t we die together?
May 31, 2018
May 31, 2018 at 6:39 PM UTC
Maybe all our hearts are born broken. The despair
inside, a result from shattered pieces. Yearning is
unbearable, like fully being alive. Soulmates, odes
in poetry. Knowing one another in dreams. But the
search for, angst making, tear making, soulmates
are meant to dwell in any poetry. You'll be embellishing
in natural beauty, I'll be watching you, writing poems
to pass the time, wishing for one glance.
(knowledge variable)
May 29, 2018
May 29, 2018 at 10:27 PM UTC
To place importance on beauty can be argued.
Oh to theromantics, ask them, they’ll reply in
poetics, ‘perhaps their character cannot tame
it all and it drips onto their flesh and if they’re
luck, they’ll imprint earth.’ To which, if you ask
me about the earth, it's soulless, neither siding
with good and evil. It’s up to people to do so.
People give God or the Devil power. A question
to who is at best at enticing. But for me, I shall
have my coffee and be content in love until death.
(knowledge variable)
May 25, 2018
May 25, 2018 at 5:06 AM UTC
To smile, while sitting the corner,
alone and crying, it's hard to live,
because when is in love, it's nothing
but grief, a blessing and a burden.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BtS0z4J0UWE
May 23, 2018
May 23, 2018 at 12:14 AM UTC
Writing poetry isn’t my repertoire muse,
romance is. Long, broad, stretching
deep Angel dust in deepening substance.
Something like mixing Nostalgia in with
memories, experiences present and
my yearnings to be better than yesterday
is parenting my future.
Romance, an addiction and my obsession
(knowledge variable)
May 21, 2018
May 21, 2018 at 8:11 PM UTC
Let our very essence entwine, in our
breathe when we lean in to kiss. Souls
marrying, as our bodies make love.
May 21, 2018
May 21, 2018 at 8:10 PM UTC
Resist against part of the mind, you’re unable to achieve in mastering, like it’s been said before. ‘It’s too bad, ignorance isn’t painful.’ The snake, the rat, the cat, the goat, how are you going to see the dogs, if you’re living in the fog? Poetry cannot solely be the image of heartbreaks and new love. Nobody wants your dance or poetry kisses. Who’s your biggest fan? This life is brief and it’s pain runs deep. Drowning in effort, over the duration of you life, starlight turmoil, commit to art and die in glory. Every poem should now be on the theme of remembering, death is always definite, as for the immortality in this world, it’s soul-selling. People smile until others forget their name. Only poetry can read my mind, fewer friends will know that and only my lover can reach my inner-world, it’s my style. Life happens will it’s self-discovery or self-destructing and I’ll ride or die and best feeling I’ve ever had, is when I turn a new leaf, forgetting the world I’ve parted with, until I learn how normal the new are. We’re not vibing. Do not enter art, you’ll be poor of wealth, as for most, that’s what they value, how to measure success, few can achieve what some had already have. As for my lover, I cannot give gifts of these world, so, I only give my own words, forming poetry of high beauty, to which they’ll never articulate the sensations of touching illumination that you have given me, but they’ll do for now, poems unseen in this world. True kunst are in their everyday actions, grandeur happens, when the world turns and notices, and a smile is produced, it won’t last long, some of us like to read, but ignorance is always easy, it will be.
(knowledge variable)
May 14, 2018
May 14, 2018 at 10:21 PM UTC
When can a poem begin? In a dry throat,
knowing what words to say or does it begin
from finished experiences? Want to leap out
in far reaching forms in it’s enlarged arms,
full of thought and emotion. And if it’s fulfilling,
profond wisdom can be there, in complete
ways. For when I die, I wish for people not
to weep for me, for I’ve gone, I wish they’ll
forget, despite how easy it is to find me.
Coast to Coast, I’m across those harsh plains,
heavy torrent, ask the exiles. Between birth
and death. Everyday lived, is mine and if
I’m love, it’s between me and thy lover. For
I have something and went to it, ask the Devil,
I had grown tired of lost words or knowing
what I should’ve said, I've danced with the
Devil. People always want to change but
remain the same. The truth will be not be found,
until it’s believed, as for that, humanity can
avoid it, along with reality. Do not weep for
me, for I’ve crossed over and wish never to
be spoken to, I’m not hard to find, I chosen
something most fail to see. As for poetry, the
best kind is always a paradox and mystics is
too good.
(come creep with me)
May 14, 2018
May 14, 2018 at 10:08 PM UTC
At times poetry, I need something more than the courage
to endure what life presents itself to me, a series of events, for I want to be my own
person, than being apart of something larger
the only thing I can do good
Is writing something in poetics.
The wonder is filled with everything I don’t know. Initiated now as a outlaw.
Poetry, kiss me, breathe inside with cello melodies, haunting fashions, not of trends. I’m content to say good-bye. Parting memories. Until the end of time.
Maybe it’s the individual in me.
We all wish for the pain to go away, but I cannot under it, all the time.
In those lonely times and facing death, the tears, the sadness, the regrets, wanting redemption and complete forgiveness, wanting to start from scratch. It’s all the same thing shared in humanity. We’re all going to die.
Rare is the one that wants forgiveness for the everyone involved with life.
I’m a kisser of romance. I’m a ****** It's easy to fall in love. As for that. I’ve been behind closed doors with most that I meet. The heart wasn’t built for heartbreak and the secrets of others. The civil servant, the priest, the maid of honour, the best man, whoever, they should up forced, press upon, harsh and hard thoughts and the spouse should always second guess. Until all that lust is cleanse out. Oh how little love there is in today's marriage. I’m laughing as a ****** Strapped with poetry and I romantic lean back, hanging with original romantics. Giving love only to purest romantics. They’ve got no love for you.
Life itself, a blessing and a burden.
It’s the same for everyone you know.
For I felt the most holy feeling any
Human could feel for another. And it allowed me to hold faith that everyone has a soulmate, someone that is just made for them. Wondering this earth’s surface.
The world is overfilling itself with people and life.
Grandeur in poems that are written and left for everyone to find.
Everyone is capable of sinning.
Knowing the Devil.
Trust me, not everyone wants you to be an individual, unless it’s like them.
A talent show, no. make waffles, with my hands, poems are my wetspot, don’t miss the chance to walk away into the world, there’s better things, but it’s a matter of how you think, don’t forget, yourself has to go with your better. If there’s a revolution going on, join in, even if it’s evil, there is revenge, but there’s something satisfying about seeing your teachers upset and especially seeing for the first time, they’re not as cracked up to be higher and holy. Life has a veil. I *** hard, like Lisa Simpson, I’ve meet Princess Di and it’s the first thing I said. And prayed harder for Princess Kelly, but I said it in neither English or French.
(knowledge variable)
May 10, 2018
May 10, 2018 at 8:31 PM UTC
My own importance to the world is small and stupor to some, slithe and soothing to my own essence, diamonds in the lights, aligning stars in the night.
Wonder what it takes to come alive
And it usually something simple
Lovers with unqualified praise that never deny potent poetry
I often kiss her, not to taste her, I often want to escape, so I dream to diver into her soul. Glorious treat, outshining caviar. It’s when anything exotic is devalued. To be accepted with a sinful past, clean smile, a rapture in one’s life, to fall in love and to be loved greater back. Awakening transforming period, to impress any Mystic, there’s forever and I hold it, if only I praise her, how I’m I supposed to use it otherwise?
A golden mask, hides sin
Love is for the brave with sin in their soul
Life is given freely.
Oh poetry, you can never express what I feel for her.
Pure love produces the highest forms of poetry
And the lovers heartbeat, causes tremors everywhere, including the cosmos
that permit every supernova to move.
As for the rest this, love is meant to be experienced and never to be told to others.
May 8, 2018
May 8, 2018 at 8:24 PM UTC